Scarring The Verse
by Miss JM Barrie
Summary: Rachel woke up one morning in a bed in Sunnydale, CA with slayers, witches, and vampires. Now she's trying to figure out what she's doing there, and what's to be expected of her in order for her to return home. And trust the price will be mortally high.
1. Prologue

-1PROLOGUE

A roar can evoke so much. Like the roar of that guitar. I loved it. It sent a vibration down my spine every time I heard it. The glide of the string that signaled the opening credits of the greatest television show that was ever produced on network television history: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I'm Rachel. I'm 21 years old. I attend the University of Michigan and I'm the head resident at the Honors Dorm. Which naturally renders it's own Geek Squad as is per usual with any honors dorm in the national organization of university networks. This particular quorum was compiled of 10 of my nearest and dearest, who agreed with me on the complete relevance of "Buffy" within the mainstream of the often times too dull, desensitized, and under dramatized world. We were the cult kids who make the Trekkies look tame. And were damn proud of it.

"I don't know where John could have left them, Kim," I said into the tiny cell phone that sat across the room on my nightstand. Speaker phone was the best part about that annoyingly small and all too easy to lose contraption. I was frantically trying to rid the living room of the illegal beer that had been not so absently left after our last B-Verse meeting. Yes, I was the head resident, I never said I was any good at the job. How they let a klutzy disaster with a vast need to please everyone she came across into a position of responsibility was beyond me. "Did you check Becca's room? From the noises coming from the shaking walls, I'm assuming they're still fucking harder than gay cowboys." Unfortunately for John, it appeared that he had been responsible for taking Kim's Season 3 of "Buffy" back to her room and had neglected to do so. Having an IQ of 154 didn't weigh the scales of common sense, which would soon be knocked out of his head if Kim didn't find what she was looking for within the next nano-second. Being a box set though, were it not returned within the reasonable time limits, no one would judge her if pools of blood were found outside the overly manga decorated door the next morning.

"I spent 50 fucking dollars on that thing and if there is even so much as a scratch on one of those discs---" I barely heard through the speaker as I wiped the last beer spill I could find on the wooden coffee table.

"You'll filet him and serve him to Wicked Willow on a tree stump, yeah, I get the urgency here," I finished for her. I tossed the last paper towel and swiped the light as I picked up the rose colored phone from it's resting spot. I shut the door behind me and locked it as I heard Kim finish,

"Nice visual, thanks for making me feel like a dumb ass."

"It's what you get for buying the shit right after release date from Suncoast," I said as I strolled down the hall to my room, "I'm telling you, Amazon has much better deals."

"Yeah, and then wait two weeks after hoping and praying that the dumb ass I'm buying from doesn't scam me and actually ships the shit," Kim resolved bitterly.

"Relax," I said with a small smile, opening the door to my room, "I'm sure they'll turn up." Stepping in, I flung myself onto my bed, not necessarily a hard task with the tiny size of the resident rooms. Seems like the fucking moguls wouldn't spend the money to make their geniuses comfortable if it meant that the football team had to play with anything less than the latest in equipment. I'm still wondering how they wrote off new Ferraris as "equipment."

"Are you going to the Finite lecture tomorrow?" I heard Kim question through the line.

"Only if Seth's class gets out early enough," I replied, "and what are the chanced of that happening?" Seth was my asshole of an acting teacher. He sure as hell did all he could to make sure I quit the acting program. Being told you'll play every "mother role after 40" but not having a career until then always did wonders for my self-esteem. Needless to say, the guy was rat shit.

"I'm glad I got out of that department while I still had half a brain left."

Wish I could join her sometimes.

"Listen," I interrupted, before the "you're bigger than this shit hole anyway, don't let it get you down" speech took flight for it's thirtieth journey, "I'm hitting the sheets, I'll see ya tomorrow."

"Cool, bye."

"Bye."

That was that. I shut my phone and flung it under my bed. Hopefully the damn thing wouldn't ring again until morning. Exhaling a long sigh that was followed by a grunt, I willed myself over to my closet where I changed from the t-shirt and jeans into my boxers and wife beater. I looked down at my attire as I secretly thought, 'look at yourself, no wonder half the Student Staff thinks you're a dyke.' Then I remembered the hot kiss that was shared by Willow and Tara at the end of season 6 that we watched last week as a smile came to my face. 'Well,' my though concluded, 'in certain cases it wouldn't be so bad.' I shut my eyes and groaned. 21 years old I felt like I was 41. College was taking it's toll on me. In every way possible. But no way to face the music any louder until tomorrow. So to speak.

I stumbled over to the conjoined bathroom I shared with Rowena. Rowena who spent every night over at her boyfriends dorm across campus. Something that really wasn't supposed to happen, but as long as she took our her dirty tampons every month, I was willing to overlook pretty much anything. As I switched on the mirror, I caught a glance at myself in the mirror. My makeup had started running again. Why did no one tell me these things? "Change dyke to uber-dyke," I corrected as I moved towards the sink.

After a rigorous tooth brushing, face washing, self-checking and self-hating of my face and body I headed back to my room. I knew I was attractive. I had a good body, a pretty face, amazing eyes, and I was fucking amazing in bed, but that didn't seem to stop it from wearing on me that something big was bothering me. Trouble was, as trouble always seems to be, I didn't know what it was. As I crawled into bed, I adamantly decided that these thoughts were too big for my head at the moment. Words like 'trapped,' 'anxious,' and 'confused' were a little too wordy for this braniacs vocabulary for the rest of the night. Yet even after I turned off the lights and vowed to not think about them anymore, they morphed into thoughts that were supposed to have vacated the premesis. Maybe these words were why I had wanted to become an actor in the first place. Why I dove into obsessions like Buffy. Maybe I just needed something to happen that would create that...roar. Something to make things tremble and quake and all the things that rhyme with those words that mean "big noise." Maybe I needed an extreme case in my life....or perhaps, I myself needed to be that extreme case. Yeah...me.

I'm not sure what happened next. But something did happen. Something of the extreme case variety. Something extreme happened when I woke up the next morning....in a bed that wasn't mine.


	2. Chapter 1: A Window with a View

-1Chapter One: A Window with a View

I always had to tell myself I was dreaming in order to wake up from a nightmare. Only when I had assured myself that the demons weren't really chasing me or that I wasn't really making out with my 11th grade history teacher could I fly up in my bed, gasping for breath, thanking god it was only my imagination having fun with me. Freud stocked a lot in dreams. I can't say I really agreed with him since I was pretty sure I was dreaming.

Because here I was, sitting straight up in a bed….in a room….that was not mine. Ergo, this had to be a dream. "Holy shit," I mumbled to the crosses hanging on the wall across the room. One set over the door, one set over the window, and was that repugnant smell….garlic? A vanity with pictures decorating the glass frame nestled in the far corner. Next to the bed was a nightstand and I did one of those dorky double takes as I saw the picture that rested beside the lamp stand. A boy, two girls, one blonde, one redhead….I picked the picture up and stared harder at the smiles coming from behind the frame. I took the picture out of the frame to check for a "made in china" stamp somewhere. Nope, the words 'Kodak' were lightly sprinkled all over the glossy print. Someone had taken this picture and put this in this frame and it wasn't for show. "Holy shit," I whispered again as I returned the photo to frame and the frame to nightstand. My hands started to shake, then my legs, I don't know why I thought I could stand but I had to throw off this damn frilly comforter. I wobbled to my feet as I looked around the room.

All right, it was time to wake up. "I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming," I mumbled to myself. It wasn't working. I felt like I should have been tapping my heels or something. I closed my eyes really tight as I commanded myself, "wake the fuck up you dumb ass!" When I opened them again all I could see was the picture that now looked like a still from a horror movie as the three people in it grinned at me mercilessly. Ok, I was smart. Time to use reasonable deduction here. I'm wasn't dreaming…so what _was_ going on?

"I'm on a set," I told myself aloud. I looked around. No cameras. All sealed walls. "Ok, so no to that theory," I also said aloud. Seeing the window open, I thought of another theory. As I made my way to the window I thought, "This could all be some radical joke and my friends dumped me in a well decorated room all I have to do is throw open that window and look," as I reached the window and looked down my thought concluded, "down." Not out, down. There was a down to look. A down that included a concrete walk-way, a tree that looked suitable for climbing, and a lawn. Ok, I was in a house. A real fucking house. A house in the middle of a place that I knew not where. I began to back away from the window. Looking back on it, I should have known not to turn around. One should never turn around, it just ends badly.

There she stood. Eyes blank and--argh! Hand over my throat!

I was being lifted off the ground by someone who looked alarmingly like--- "Who are you?" she asked. I could feel my windpipe contract onto itself as she squeezed my throat tighter on each word. I was going lightheaded. The blood was rushing into my eyes and I knew I would pass out any minute. And she wanted me to answer a question? "What are you doing in my room?" she barked, shaking me this time to emphasize each word. Again with the questions. I managed to squeak out an,

"Oh god," before tears started to stream down my face. This tiny little bitch in front of me was strong. Incredibly strong. Superhero strong. Fear seeped in as fast as sweat and tears were flowing out. I was going to die, nothing in my mind doubted it. All I could do was try to pull her fingers off my throat in futility. As my numbing fingers scratched her, she began to get the hint that there was no way in frozen hell that I was going to be answering her questions if I were unconscious. So she lowered me slowly to the floor, just enough so that the balls of my feet touched the floor. Remaining on my tip-toes gave the terrified feeling of any minute she could just lift me back up and snap my neck, ergo I would talk if I wanted that to not happen. Naturally I didn't.

Once my eyes had cleared I saw that my previous freak-out over her appearance was quite right. Now that I didn't see spots swirling I could make out the face clearly on the petite blonde. Mostly it was those eyes, and god who could overlook that nose. She looked like Sarah Michelle Gellar. But the former anorexic superstar didn't have this much strength. She had to be---

"Buffy?" I choked out, rubbing my throat. Damn did her eyes grow. "No fucking way that's possible," I then added under my breath.

"How did you know my name?" she asked. All that escaped my mouth were a few random sounds and syllables. My head was throbbing and oxygen was becoming a quick issue.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, my voice cracking now from the continuing strain of her vice grip around my throat. Crazy, mind-blowing possible scenarios were running through my mind like a cracked out hamster on his wheel and I was not liking any of them. "Please…." I begged. Not exactly sure what I was begging for, it just sorta slipped out. But it was enough for her to finally let me go. I gasped at the welcomed oxygen but before I had a chance to fall on my face and succumb to the increasing black circles that started wrapping their way to my pupils, I felt her pull me by my shoulders out of her room and down the hall.

"Willow! Xander!" the blonde cried. Who? Before I had time to ask myself the entirety of the question she had thrown me into a chair and wrapped my wrists behind my back with what felt like silky rope. My feet got the same gracious treatment. At least being off my feet made me want to pass out a helluva lot less. Now who had she just called? As if my question were to be immediately answered before it was asked two more people walked into the room.

"Buffy?"

"What is it?"

Now I really wanted to faint. The boy and girl from the photo. In the room. That I woke up in. In the photo. With her.

"Found her in my room," the girl that my brain was still trying to register as Buffy Summers said.

"Over did it a bit doncha think, Buff?" the tall guy with black hair said. Those eyes. Those kind eyes.

"Xa--xa---" I stammered. The three turned to look at me. God they really did to everything in sync didn't they. That was so fucking creepy. My mind began to reject what I had tried to say. Xander Harris didn't exist. Not in this world. Not in any other world. And neither did Buffy and none of this fucking existed! "Nick Brendan," I ended up saying instead of the ridiculous title some part of me wanted to bestow.

"Who?" the blonde asked. This was crazy. I was going off my fucking bat tower!

"Please," I babbled, "I don't know what's going on, I don't know how I got here, or why I'm tied to a chair in a room that doesn't exist with three people who are acting like they're characters in some damn T.V. show!"

Bat tower. Yep, just looked right over the edge and had jumped. Lost my coo-coo nuts. Completely.

"Buffy, what's going on?" the redhead asked. My mind was reeling and I was just getting pissed off now!

"Stop it, that's not her name!" I yelled.

"Yes it is, you said so yourself," the blonde corrected, staring down at me with a look that said, test me and I'll break your kneecaps. "What I want to know is how it is you happen to know that?"

"I just need to---I need a minute to--to think---"and then I broke off. I looked them all over, up and down, left to right. The way they were standing. The way they were dressed. The redhead's mouth was twisted, hair shoulder length, she looked like she was partially confused but also quite amused. That curve in her mouth followed all the way up to her eyes. Spitting image of Alyson Hannigan. But something, somehow was different. I had met Alyson at a Comic Con two years ago. This wasn't her.

"Willow…" I said in a whisper. It sounded so romantic. So reverent. So much so that I made the redhead blush just a little. She shifted awkwardly as she stammered,

"Who is she?" My eyes widened.

"My name's Rachel, and um…" My eyes darted between the three of them nervously. Obviously it was ok to encroach on Buffy, but now I had somehow messed with the Willow vibes and was being met with the defensive stances of a pissed off 6 foot tall man and an even feistier throat crushing blonde. "I'm human and um…" then a humorous thought hit me and I couldn't help but let a half smile curl onto my lips. "I guess I'm what you might call a, um…a, uh…fan."

"Of what?" the ever growing pissed off man asked.

"Of all of you," I said more matter of fact than anything else I had managed within the last five minutes. If it was any more possible, they looked even more confused. Or at the very least they appeared quite uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath I decided that even if there weren't a rational explanation to any of this I was at least going to make one. "What year is it?" I asked.

"We don't owe you answers until you give us some," the blonde said.

'Buffy,' I told myself. 'Buffy , Buffy, Buffy, she's Buffy.'

"What's the what in here?" a younger voice from behind Willow asked. Needless to say I wasn't too terribly shocked that when the lithe, small figure appeared beside Willow that the first words out of my mouth were,

"Hey, Dawn."

"Who are you?" she asked, not in near befuddlement like the others had been.

"I think she was just about to answer that for us," Buffy encroached, in typical commander fashion. She was trying to look more intimidating by the minute, but somehow, all I felt in her presence was…sadness. Such…sadness.

"Ok," I began, "it's at least 2001 then cause she didn't come around until Season 5," I babbled out loud.

"What was that?" the boy asked. No, Xander asked.

"You said you were fans of ours," Buffy interrupted, "what did you mean by that?" All my ramblings and this is the one topic she wanted me to even try to explain. Her tone was cold now. Empty. My mind began to turn faster. That emptiness. That sadness. It meant something, but for fuck's sake, what was it?

And then just like that I knew. Somehow it clicked. 'They brought you back already,' I thought and I could feel my throat sink down into my stomach. I must have looked as sick as I was beginning to feel because for the first time thus far, someone asked,

"What's wrong?" Of course it would be Dawn. But I had to continue now. As long as I was buying this I had to just keep talking. I looked into the redhead's eyes.

"Willow…you're Willow Rosenberg right?" I asked. If she was Willow then there was another piece of the puzzle I had to make sure fit.

"Will, you don't have to answer any of her---" Buffy began.

"Yes," the other girl interrupted. All right then, moment of truth.

"Is Tara---" I stopped myself before saying what I knew would make or break my answer. One simple word: alive. Or maybe I had meant to say dead. As if she knew she were being talked about I heard another voice from the hallway.

"Willow, I was just---" whatever was meant to be asked was quickly cut off once the beautiful, curvaceous blonde entered the room and saw the congregation around me. For an instant I caught something in those blue eyes of hers. Was that…pity? Pity for me? Shit, did I look that terrified? "Who is---"

"Enough!" Buffy yelled. Slayer had had enough and now I was pretty sure was the time to start panicking. Immediately as the words evaporated into the jostled room, I felt her slam her hands onto my wrists. I winced at the contact but didn't dare do more. "You are on dangerous playing ground," she muttered in a low, threatening voice. "Now I was you to tell me who the hell you and what you're doing here."

"I---I told you who I am," I stammered. The blood flowing from my hands was killing me and I have a death wish when I'm in this much pain, because evidently I have what many people would call a temper. So I added a little too loudly for my safety, "but I have no fucking idea why I'm here!" I felt the tears forming in my eyes as Buffy leaned away in a moment of surprise. I was so confused, I didn't know how I should be reacting, how I should be answering their questions. All I knew in that moment was that my hands were killing me. And I was looking into the eyes not of an actor, but of a real person. The Slayer. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And I was afraid.

"Please," I begged, bringing my voice into a squeaky pitiful tone that I never used. "I just want to go home." And that did it. I started crying. "This isn't happening," I choked out. I felt the grip on my hands loosen. I watched as Buffy retained a standing position. She started to pace for a few moments, looking back and forth between Willow and Xander. Dawn sat on the couch utterly consumed by the oddity of my presence, and Tara, well, I wasn't really sure….

"I'll get you home," Buffy said at last, stopping in front of the doorway as if she were afraid she were making a deal that would warrant a sudden get away on my part. As if I could. "But you have to tell us the truth," she concluded. As if I had been telling them anything else. I didn't know what more I could possibly spill, but I nodded my head all the same.

'Suck it up,' I told myself. 'You're acting like a fucking baby.'

"How do you know our names?" she asked for what seemed like the millionth time. I took a deep breath, wishing someone would wipe the tears off my face so I didn't look so pathetic.

"All right, let's say I accept all this. That I for one second pretend that all of you are---I, I know all of you. I've seen parts of your lives, and I parts of your futures, because um, see wherever it is that I'm from. That place…in that place you guys are…" boy they were sure not gonna like this. "You guys are characters in a television show." Dead silence. "Don't believe me?" I asked. "Well, if the names aren't enough, how about this." I looked over at Xander standing next to Willow. "Xander and Willow had their first kiss in Willow's room while they were primping for Homecoming. I believe Lisa Loeb was involved." Both Xander and Willow shifted on their feet while Tara turned a slight shade of pink. Damn, I should have used another scenario. It was just the first one that popped into my head. 'Never mind that, keep going.' "Buffy, you met Angel in an alleyway. He told you not to worry, he didn't bite." Now I had a stoic slayer on loose footing. "See, I can't be nuts," I added as I slunk into my chair. If slunking was even possible in a chair; somehow I managed it. "Or maybe I am," I finished with an exhale.

They all looked from one to another for several moments. They were weren't in the mood for chattiness these days. Willow was the one who broke the silence, "I've heard stranger." I ever so slowly sat up and raised an eyebrow. That certainly was not even in the ball park of reactions I thought I would get.

"Will's right, we are on a Hellmouth," Xander admitted with the slight bobbing nod of his head. What the fuck was going on now?

"We're on a T.V. show?" Buffy asked. "Characters….on a T.V. show," she had to repeat. I nodded. A smile crept over Buffy's face, and she threw her hands up and down by her side in a very 'fuck-it' manner. "You know what, I'm not buying this." I gave an exasperated sigh.

"Well I don't care if you don't buy it, it's the truth," I said flatly. She was just starting to piss me off now. Super strength versus insanity or no, I was growing very tired of this banter and my ass was falling asleep from this god awful uncomfortable chair.

"This isn't a T.V. show," Buffy said, as if that were the last of it, "we only deal with the real life here." I don't know what made me say the next few words out of my mouth but I damn well enough said them anyway.

"I know." Not for the first time I caught Tara's eyes. In a strange way, I had always associated most with her character and had even on occasion played Tara in a few comic cons. Some kind of understand was there and she hadn't really said anything---

"She's not from here." Until now. All attention was placed on her.

"Obviously," I heard Dawn mutter under her breath.

"Not from here in the 'from here' sense…she's from another…time. Or place?"

"Or dimension?" Willow beamed in with a smile. I caught the quick eye exchange between the two as Tara nodded her head. It was so brief and then her eyes were reverted back to the ground. I cast my attention to Buffy to see if maybe the offered options weren't going to make me a slayer punching bag any time soon.

"I told you I don't know why I'm here. All I know is that while there's this really fucked up fan crazed side of me that is screaming I'm insane for not seeing this as a dream come true….I know I don't belong here. I don't know _anything_…except that you're Buffy. And if you're Buffy…you're the only person in this world, in this dimension, what the hell ever….who can help me."

Buffy stared at me for several moments, stoic, the only sign battling the idea of catatonia was the slight rise and fall of her chest as she was breathing. She was studying me, deep into me. I couldn't help but feel….violated. Then she blinked and looked over at her friends who were anxiously awaiting what they should do. All I could do was sweat it out until she spoke.

"All right," she finally said. Which, I suppose wasn't as long as I thought it would be. She crossed to me and gave the white ropes binding my wrists a smart tug and popped the rope in two. I grabbed my wrists and rubbed them gingerly as Buffy headed for the door. "I'm gonna call Giles," I heard her say as she disappeared down the hall.


End file.
